


So Pass The Wine, Baby, And Let's Make Some Love

by Stylinsonvodka



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Zayn, Body Worship, Bottom Zayn, Dirty Talk, Fluff, M/M, Older Liam, Prompt Fill, Rich Liam, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, anyway, dumb boys using dumb drink names to flirt, kind of, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinsonvodka/pseuds/Stylinsonvodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Zayn's something of a struggling art student and Liam's a lonely alcoholic with more money than he actively knows what to do with. They meet at a bar. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>He's a startlingly pretty little thing, with high cheekbones and soft looking skin and eyelashes that are so long it's nearly ridiculous. He has to be younger than Liam, at least by a few years, but he's easily the most beautiful person Liam's ever seen and he can't help himself from staring for a moment. He's also a little drunk, which he knows is partially to blame — he's usually not very creepy, even on his worst day — but he thinks there must be something about the whiskey and the stranger's pale, full lips that are absolutely intoxicating when they're taken in at the same time.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	So Pass The Wine, Baby, And Let's Make Some Love

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i am a human garbage can and i was supposed to post this last week!!!!!!! its only a week late, which is actually really good for me, but its still late and im still a garbage can. im gonna try and post something really soon to make up for it but!!!! who knows!!!!!! im but a simple garbage can i have no concept of time

So Liam leaves for Paris in exactly thirty six hours, and instead of packing he's passing the time in the most sordid bar he could find.

He's sitting at the bar, of course, nursing his fifth — sixth? — scotch of the night, suit jacket draped over the back of his chair and tie loosened just enough that the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. He glances out at the dance floor every few moments, but otherwise keeps his eyes lowered to where his forearms are leaned against the bar, sleeves rolled to his elbows and fingers folded across his glass.

It's empty, and he lifts his head just long enough to wave the bartender back over, slowly pushing his fingers through his hair with his other hand. He doesn't want to admit that he's moping — he's almost thirty, for fuck's sake, and thirty year old men do _not_ mope — but he can't help the small grunt of relief he emits as the next glass is placed in front of him. The last week of his life had probably also been the longest, filled as it was by meetings with partners and investors and whoever the fuck else, and the only thing that's started to help ease the tension from his shoulders has been silver tequila and scotch. To make a shitty week even worse, it had drawn to a close with his ex—girlfriend's wedding, and Liam almost hadn't waited for the reception to end before, still in his suit, he had left, and made himself comfortable in the most secluded corner of the bar.

He knows that he probably shouldn't be drinking, given that he flies out to Paris the next afternoon for another week of business meetings, but he also knows that's old and and he's stubborn and he's terribly lonely, and hell if he doesn't drain his glass all at once. He immediately waves the bartender over for another, ignoring the mildly concerned look he fixes Liam with as he places another glass down in front of him. Liam knows that he must be quite a sight, sitting in a dive bar in a suit that probably costs more than the business is worth, but the last thing he needs is the bartender getting too worried about him and trying to cut him off. God forbid, honestly.

He sips at his next glass slowly, trying to put the bartender's mind at ease as he glances around the room again. He's trying to look anywhere but actually at the bartender when he chances a glance at the bloke sitting across the bar from him, who's so ethereal that it actually pulls Liam up short for a moment.

He's a startlingly pretty little thing, with high cheekbones and soft looking skin and eyelashes that are so long it's nearly ridiculous. He has to be younger than Liam, at least by a few years, but he's easily the most beautiful person Liam's ever seen and he can't help himself from staring for a moment. He's also a little drunk, which he knows is partially to blame — he's usually not very creepy, even on his worst day — but he thinks there must be something about the whiskey and the stranger's pale, full lips that are absolutely intoxicating while they're taken in at the same time.

He's not even looking at Liam, but at the bloke sitting next to him, who catches Liam's eye as he glances around a moment later. He nods at him once, and without hesitating, Liam nods back, glancing back down at the bar and feeling suspiciously like he'd just been dismissed.

He imagines that he might have been, glancing across the bar at the pair of them again as he swallows the last of his scotch. He's honestly such a pretty little thing, and Liam doesn't think he'd be surprised if he were to find out that creepy strangers are something he frequently has to deal with. The bloke he's sitting with probably has to wrestle people away from him, and Liam wonders if he should be grateful that he received a nod instead of a punch to the throat.

That being said, he can't keep his gaze from flickering across the bar again as his glass is refilled. He knows that the bartender's looking at him, and Liam makes a point to keep from even acknowledging him, instead glancing back at the pair across the bar from him. The blonde bloke's not paying any attention to Liam, focused as he is on his lap — Liam assumes that he's on his phone but who knows, really — and the pretty thing next him seems to be half listening to him speak, before his eyes flicker upwards to meet Liam's.

He has large eyes, wide and dark, that are framed by the longest lashes Liam thinks he's ever seen on a human being. They're shining with liquor and mirth, making him look all sorts of innocent, and Liam's never wanted to come on a person's face more in his entire life.

He reminds himself, though, that he's a rather young person, and he forces himself to look away again as he takes a long sip of scotch. He knows that he has to be at least eighteen, which is encouraging, but Liam's still twenty nine and he feels like it's probably best that he keeps his inappropriate thoughts at bay. He attempts to, anyway, but as he drains his tenth — eleventh? — glass of whiskey, the chair to his left is pulled back and the beautiful stranger from across the bar is sitting next to him.

"You've been staring at me," he greets, lips arched.

Liam can only raise an eyebrow, trying to act as those he were nonchalant and not at all creepy. "Doesn't sound like me," he says finally. It's a pretty stupid thing to say, and he's almost not sure why he's said it, when the bartender refills his glass without being asked, and ah, right. He takes it, taking a long sip before he holds it up. "I have been drinking, though."

The stranger laughs, white teethed and beautiful. "Long day?"

"The longest," Liam agrees. He doesn't know why he doesn't lie. "I went to my ex—girlfriend's wedding today."

"Your ex—girlfriend's wedding?" He repeats, and Liam nods.

"She married the bloke she cheated on me with," he said.

"Oh," the stranger says. "I'm sorry."

Liam shakes his head, emptying the glass again. He isn't exactly bitter that it had happened — hell, he had barely been bitter when he had first found out that it was happening. He was away a lot for business, and it wasn't exactly surprising to find out that it had gotten to be too much for her and she had been with somebody else and that she was, 'so sorry, Liam.' Ugh.

"What about you?" He asks finally, raising his eyebrows. He's partially trying to steer the conversation away from himself, but there's also part of him that'd honestly like to get to know the stranger in front of him. "Long day?"

"I'm an art student," he starts, and Liam nods.

"Ah," he says. "That explains it."

He laughs again, wrinkling his nose and pressing his tongue to the backs of his teeth as he nods. "Yeah," he agrees. "It's exactly as horrible as you'd think."

Liam cracks a smile. "Is it your first year?"

"It is," the stranger says, nodding, and Liam can't help but bite back a sigh of relief at the knowledge that he's genuinely eighteen and that Liam won't immediately have to leave the bar and turn himself in to the police. "I'm Zayn, by the way."

"Zayn," Liam agrees, liking the way his name tasted and the way Zayn nearly flushed as he said it. "I'm Liam."

"Well, Liam," Zayn says, and Liam's never been much of a fan of his name, but right then, he thinks he might love the sound of it, "are you going to buy me a drink?"

Liam can't keep himself from grinning again as he places his own glass back down on the bar. "What are you having?"

"Whatever you'll give me," Zayn tells him, and Liam thinks that he might be in love.

He thinks that Zayn might know it, too, and he almost can't help that his lips twitch up into a smirk that nearly mirrors Zayn's. If there's one thing that Liam's good at, it's drumming up innuendoes like a seasoned professional, and he almost doesn't hesitate before he asks, "have you ever had a screaming orgasm?"

Zayn looks mildly startled for a fraction of a second, and Liam feels a beat of pride within his chest. "What?"

"Vodka and amaretto," Liam explains, smirking again as he waves the bartender over with one hand. He, too, looks rather startled by Liam's request, but fills the glass and places it in front of Zayn without a word.

Zayn lifts it cautiously, glancing at Liam. "Screaming orgasm?"

Liam nods. "Cheers."

Zayn cracks a smile, looking away from Liam as he quickly throws back a large mouthful of the liquor. His frown is almost instantaneous, nose creased distastefully. "That's awful," he says.

He looks honestly betrayed, and Liam can't keep himself from barking out a laugh, before he schools his expression into something more casual and asks, "what about a blow job?"

Zayn looks almost more alarmed than he had a moment ago, placing his glass back down on the bar with a startled laugh. "That can't be real," he says. "You're making that up."

"I swear to God," Liam promises. "Coffee liqueur and Irish cream."

"Alright," Zayn says, and he clearly doesn't believe Liam, but barely a moment has to pass before the bartender's placing the drink on the bar in front of him.

Liam nods at it with a mostly self satisfied smirk. "Bottoms up."

Zayn breathes out a laugh, brow arched cautiously as he swallows down the liquor all at once. He wrinkles his nose again as he places his glass down on the bar, but he looks fractionally less betrayed than he had a moment ago. "Alright," he says, "blow jobs aren't bad," and Liam grins. 

"How did you even find any of these?" Zayn asks, as Liam waves the bartender over for another round of blow jobs. "They're fucking ridiculous."

"I'm wealthy and I'm old," Liam tells him. "I spend a lot of time in bars."

"Wealthy I'd believe," Zayn says, nodding at the growing line of empty shot glasses across the bar in front of them, "but you can't be more than, what? Fifty?" 

"I'm twenty nine," Liam protests, and Zayn grins, probably more inebriated than he's willing to let on.

"Happy early thirtieth, then," he says. Liam snorts. "Should we celebrate with more blow jobs?"

Liam cracks a smile, glancing back over at Zayn as the bartender lines another row of glasses up in front of them. "To retirement," he chimes, holding his glass up, and Zayn giggles again as he taps his own glass against Liam's.

"To not being fifty."

Liam barks out a laugh, tossing the liquor back quickly, and he can see the corners of Zayn's mouth twitch as he swallows down his own shot. Liam smirks, watching Zayn crack a smile as he waves the bartender back over, and the curl of his lips is so strangely endearing that it makes Liam want to kiss him just as much as it reaffirms the need to fuck his face.

It's kind of funny, actually, because Liam hadn't actually come to the bar with the intent of getting laid, but he doesn't think there's anything he'd like more in the world than to fuck Zayn until he becomes nothing more than a panting, withering mess beneath Liam. He's so pretty as he is now — his skin is flushed with alcohol and the smile playing at his lips is almost dizzying — and Liam almost can't imagine how much prettier he'd be with mussed hair and hooded eyes and his legs arched over Liam's shoulders.

Liam wants to know how he sounds when he gasps Liam's name, and the way the dip of his collarbones tastes, and he wants to watch his mouth drop open and his eyelashes flutter as he falls apart around Liam's cock. He also kinda wants to lick him out until he cries, and he wants to leave bruises on his thighs that are so dark they'll be permanently tattooed into his skin. God, he almost wants to bend Zayn over the bar, but instead swallows another mouthful of whiskey in a lazy attempt at distracting himself. His dick twitches, anyway.

Zayn doesn't seem to notice, focused as he is on throwing back another couple glasses of silk panties. Liam finds himself watching his throat as he swallows, and he clears his throat once before looking away and waving the bartender back over for another glass of scotch. It's placed in front of him without so much as a word, and Liam knows that it's only a matter of time before he's cut off.

He throws it back quickly, trying to focus on the burn in the back of his throat and not that of the growing ache in his pants. It works for at least a few moments, until he glances back over at Zayn, who's chewing on his lip as he turns his glass over and looks almost more beautiful than he had before Liam had turned away.

Fuck it, he thinks.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Zayn looks up at him again, cheeks flushed with alcohol. "I thought you'd never ask," he smirks. "Your place or mine?"

Liam would like nothing more than to take Zayn apart on the silk sheets he has waiting for him back home, but he had just watched his girlfriend get married, and if Liam knows anything about his family, it's that they would have left the reception immediately after him and are probably waiting in his living room with leftover cake and their condolences. Zayn's still in school, though, and Liam can't imagine that he lives anywhere too immaculate, and it's with a wince that he says, "Yours?"

He had been right to be weary. Not that Zayn's flat is run down, or anything, because it's actually quite nice, but he's only in his first year of UNI and he lives in a dorm with a roommate, very thin walls and one other bloke — his roommate's boyfriend, he's told. It's kind of uncomfortable, but at the same time, it also makes it all kinds of exciting, and the door barely has time to swing shut behind him before his lips are on Zayn's and his hands are low on his hips.

They had called Liam's driver to come pick them both up from the bar, and the ride to Zayn's flat had been fairly loud and very handsy. It doesn't hold a candle, though, to the feeling of Zayn's weight against his chest, lips moving against his own as his long fingers make quick work of the buttons of Liam's shirt. Liam shrugs out of it helpfully, and Zayn skirts his fingers down Liam's chest, tugging once at his belt as he curls his fingers around the buckle. He's making these low, impatient noises into Liam's mouth, and hell if Liam doesn't almost come in his pants.

He pushes Zayn's cardigan from his shoulders, before he breaks the kiss again to tug his shirt over his head, moving to toy with the button of his jeans before he even has a moment to protest. They're still standing in the hall beyond the door, and Liam seals their lips together again as he attempts to guide Zayn to his room, before realizing that not only does he not know where Zayn's room is, but that he also really doesn't want to take the time to find out. In the middle of the living room, though, a large, black couch is taking up space, and Liam doesn't waste a lot of time before he guides Zayn over to it and presses him against the back.

Zayn kisses him again, immediately knotting a hand in Liam's hair, and Liam can't keep himself from grunting softly as he tugs both Zayn's jeans and his briefs down his legs. Zayn steps out of them, and Liam holds tightly to his bare hips as he breaks away from him again, ignoring Zayn's small whine of protest in favour of looking him over.

He's even more beautiful without clothes than he is with them, and if Liam wasn't so hard that it's making him lightheaded, he probably would've attempted to just stand there and stare at Zayn forever. As it is, though, he's pretty sure he's about to explode, and Zayn's squirming in his arms and making these helpless little noises that make Liam want to absolutely devour him.

"Yeah, baby?" He finds himself murmuring, and his mouth is so dry it's a wonder his voice works. "What do you want?"

"You," Zayn breathes. Liam's never heard anything more beautiful in his whole, entire life. "'ve wanted you since I saw you in the fucking bar."

Liam rewards him by slowly turning him around, bending him over the back of the couch. Zayn gasps softly, and quickly starts to shift his hips, though he stills as soon as Liam places a hand on the small of his back. Liam smirks.

He sinks to his knees on the hardwood behind Zayn, thumbing small circles across the skin of the small of his back. He skirts the other up the back of his thigh, leaning closer so that his breath ghosts across Zayn's hole as he asks, "Yeah?"

Zayn's breath hitches. It's fucking beautiful. "Yeah." Liam runs his hand up his thigh again, and Zayn shivers, muscles shifting beneath Liam's hands like he really wants to move but can't bring himself to do so. "Wanted you to just hold me down and fuck me against the bar," he breathed. "Wanted you so badly."

Liam can't help the small groan he emits before he holds tightly to Zayn's hip again, licking once over his hole. Zayn quickly reaches back with one hand, twisting his fingers in Liam's hair and clutching at the leather of the couch with the other. It nearly makes his dick twitch again, knowing that he can do that to Zayn, but he ignores himself in favour of licking over him again and drinking in the small whine that Zayn emits. The noises he makes are all kinds of addictive, getting higher and even more breathless as Liam straightens out his tongue and pushes it past the ring of muscle.

Zayn chokes a cry, and Liam holds tighter to his hip, circling his tongue once before he pulls back and keeps Zayn's hips pinned to the couch as he attempts to chase the sensation. He's so fucking tight inside that Liam feels increasingly sure that his cock might actually explode in his pants, but even so, he can't help himself from licking back into Zayn, fucking him slowly with his tongue.

Zayn's nails are digging into his scalp, and he's so hard it's actually painful, but Zayn cries out whenever he flicks his tongue, and he's shuddering minutely under Liam's hands, and it's only when both his mouth and chin are slick with saliva that he slowly pulls away again.

Zayn gasps softly in protest, and Liam rubs his thigh, fumbling quickly with his belt with his other hand. "Gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?" He murmurs, cracking a smirk when Zayn nods quickly, pointing blindly at the table next to the couch. Liam raises his eyebrows, but steps out of his pants as he pads over it, pulling open the top drawer and snorting softly as pulls from it a condom and a small packet of lube.

"Shut up," Zayn murmurs, "we're students," but there's no fire behind his words, and when Liam glances up at him again his face is flushed, hair plastered to his forehead. His lower lip is swollen because of how hard he's been biting it, and Liam kisses him once before he walks back around the couch.

"Gonna fuck you," Liam murmurs, "and then I'm gonna make you come with just my tongue. Wanna hear the noises you make as you fall apart for me." Zayn whimpers softly, very promising, and Liam smirks again. "First I'm gonna fuck you, yeah?" He murmurs again. "Make you feel so good, baby."

Zayn shifts his hips minutely in agreement, and Liam nods resolutely, quickly tearing open the packet of lube with his teeth. He pours a decent amount on his fingers, and rubs it between them once, twice, before Zayn shifts again, and Liam kisses the back of his neck as he pushes his first finger into him.

He's obscenely tight around Liam, all tight heat and soft skin and _fucking hell_ , and Liam can't help but breathe out a moan of his own as Zayn whimpers loudly and holds so tightly to the couch his knuckles start to turn white. Liam grips Zayn's hip with his free hand, before he slowly starts to move his finger, nearly dragging it in and out of him despite how badly he wanted to move quickly and just get his fucking cock in him. The noises Zayn's making, though, these soft little whimpers and mewls each time Liam's finger shifts slowly across his prostate, make it so much more worth it, and Liam almost has to remind himself not to let Zayn come this way as he pushes in with a second finger.

It isn't long before Zayn's gasping helplessly and Liam's pushing in with a third, though it feels like forever before he's finally rolling the condom on and smoothing his cock with the last of the lube. The contact feels fucking fantastic, and it's kind of hard for Liam to release his hold on his cock just enough to line himself up with Zayn's hole.

He covers Zayn's hand with his free hand, and Zayn's awkwardly twines their fingers together, holding to Liam tightly as Liam finally starts to push inside him. He's still obscene around his cock, despite how careful Liam had been to prepare him properly, and he soothingly kisses the back of his neck as he stills with his hips pressed to Zayn's arse.

He may be drunk off his ass, and so hard that it might actually kill him, but Zayn's beautiful, and so soft beneath Liam's hands that Liam would like few things less than he would like to have hurt him. A moment passes, and Liam barely breathes, before Zayn nods his head and squeezes his fingers again and Liam slowly starts to shift his hips.

He barely moves at first, shifting in small circles, before he pulls out almost entirely and snaps his hips back into place so quickly the couch shifts. Zayn shifts with it, crying out again, and Liam holds to Zayn's waist again with his free hand as he starts to shift his hips so quickly the couch continues to shift across the floor. Zayn's grip is tight enough on it, and Liam's on Zayn, that it never actually slides away so much as just rattles against the hardwood. It bounces with ever quick jerk of Liam's hips, though the sound of it's always drowned out by the sounds of Zayn's helpless moans and the snap of skin against skin.

Liam only holds tighter to his hip, gripping bruises into the soft skin of Zayn's waist as he moves his hips more quickly. Zayn tightens around him immediately, crying out again like he can't seem to help himself, and Liam kisses soothingly across the back of Zayn's shoulder as he thumbs across the tops of his knuckles.

He knows he's found Zayn's prostate when he suddenly chokes out a moan, fingers twitching helplessly around Liam's. "There," he breathes, and he sounds so wrecked that Liam can't help but try to angle each one of his thrusts properly. "Oh, God, there, please."

Another few thrusts and Zayn's not much more than a moaning, shuddering mess, and it's exactly as beautiful as Liam had hoped it would be. He's still gasping loudly, pushing his hips back whenever Liam pushes into him with a particularly well aimed thrust, and Liam can tell he's getting close by the way his hips stutter and he tightens suddenly around Liam's cock. Liam doesn't waste another moment before he reaches around him, stroking Zayn once, twice, three times before he cries out again and comes across the back of the couch.

Liam, who's been about ready to come since Zayn had sat next to him at the bar, groans loudly, and holds tighter to Zayn's waist as he snaps his hips again and comes without warning. Zayn moans loudly, leaning heavily against the back couch, and Liam kisses his shoulder again as he carefully pulls out of him and steps back. Zayn doesn't so much as move, and Liam kisses his shoulder again, tying the condom off and leaving it in the bin beneath the side table before he picks Zayn up and helps lay him down on the couch. He pulls a blanket from the arm and covers him with it, pushing Zayn's damp hair back from his face with one hand.

Zayn cracks an eye open as he does so, looking up at Liam slowly. "Are you staying?" He asks, voice small.

The question pulls Liam up short for a moment, because while, in the last few minutes, he had thought about marrying Zayn several times, he hadn't really considered where he was gonna spend the night. He thinks he'd very much like to spend it with Zayn curled up in his arms, though he can't keep himself from hesitating as he looks down at him.

"Would you like me to?"

Zayn shrugs, looking about as unsure as Liam feels. "You can't fuck me in the morning if you don't spend the night," he says finally, and Liam laughs, thinking again of marrying Zayn as he climbs onto the couch and beneath the blanket next to him. Zayn props his head against Liam's chest, and Liam wraps an arm around him, unable to keep from drifting to sleep with his face pressed to Zayn's hair.

He's already a little bit in love with him, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://classiczain.tumblr.com) if you ever wanna follow a real live garbage can!!! im also always taking prompts so hmu


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